𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐎 (𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒) *editing*

𝗢𝘂𝗿 𝗞𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗿'𝘀 𝗞𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀❄️

"Don't let her get away!" 

Maeve dodged the bullets shot at her; her legs carried her as fast as they could. She ran aimlessly while those guys chased her. They did not appreciate her fight-or-flight tactics as much as she did.

All she knew, they wanted her dead. They wouldn't give up, even after she managed to disappear from their sight. She had made a very sharp turn, entering a dark shop, or whatever the store was. The panic had been set in way before she ran into those hellbent, trigger-happy, homicidal assholes. She had no more arrows, so the bow in her care became useless now.

She froze at the sound of ominous clicking. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

She did not just run herself into a clicker den, she feared that may be the case when she also heard wheezing and grunting sounds of runners.

Holy fuck...what the fuck did I just get myself into?! Though she didn't have time to ponder about it, her assailants were getting closer every second. She bit her lips, and against her better judgment, she scurried through the large store-like room, which turned out to be a small restaurant and bar.

She heard them in the corridor, and her breath caught in her throat as she hid behind a wide check-out counter.

"Shit, infected!" She heard them curse under their breath.

She was surprised she could hear them from that distance, but then again, it was so quiet anyway. The infected in the back rooms were stirred by their voices, but just barely. An idea popped into her head: if she could make a loud noise far from her being, then she could get those guys off her ass. Who were they, anyway? Why did they want her dead? She couldn't recall a moment where she did anything -- wait, are these the same guys from the college?

A twinge of worry swam through her, laced with mild fear and panic.

If they're a part of the group that attacked them at the university, then did that mean there were more? Like, Jackson? Was there a whole group of people yearning for vengeance on their guys?

Her jaw clenched. If so, she was about to have quite the time getting them off her ass.

"Psst!"

A whispered sound came from above her, er, behind her? Above and behind her, curiously enough. She twisted around awkwardly, almost afraid of what she was going to find.

Through the dim light, she spotted a pale face poking out overhead. At first, her soul leaped for the heavens. But then she realized the ghostly face in the dark was Ellie. A mixture of relief and confusion filled her. How was she up there, not to mention, there of all places? No, wait. Perhaps the more appropriate question would be, how the hell did she get up there?

Maeve squinted, unable to comprehend what her sister was doing. It clicked a moment later when she saw her arm winding backward, a bottle in her hand. She threw the bottle, and it flung through the air and shattered near the non-fungal hostiles; the shattering glass created devastating chaos. The infected awoke, and the men who chased her tried to fend them off. Gunfire and shrieks filled the air.

The opposing parties killed each other in a matter of minutes; the battle being what seemed like an eternity. The screams almost deafened her, but then, there was nothing. Silence engulfed her once more. Bodies of infected and non-infected were strewn out in the front part of the small restaurant.

"Nice throw," she warily stood and Ellie dropped from her perch, landing next to her heavily. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be okay," Ellie answered. "And you?"

Maeve sighed, thick puffy vapor clouds leaving her lips. Exhausted, she wanted to say, but she held it in. She was unimportant at the moment; the guys were counting on them. Besides, Ellie probably felt the same way. She didn't want to burden her sister longer than she already had. "Did you find any medical kits or supplies?"

Ellie nodded, some color returning to her face. "I found this helicopter with a first aid kit. It still has gauze, needles, and all. We can stitch Joel and TJ up."

"Did you run into these fanatic assholes too?"

"A few," Ellie glanced at the entrance of the place. "So fucking trigger happy."

"Seems that way."

Whoever these men were, they did not want peace. It was like they had a "kill on sight" thing going on. She wondered how many of them there were. She hoped there weren't many, and those she encountered were the last. It was in her best interest to not kill anyone non-fungal, not that she wanted to kill infected, but if she didn't kill them, they'd kill her. She despised killing. Inside, her heart broke for them knowing they'd once been human and intellectually functional. Having that knowledge, it screwed with her psyche.

"Maeve?" Ellie sought her attention.

"Yeah?" She met her eyes.

"Will we have enough to stitch them up?"

"Let me see." She watched Ellie kneel and slip her bag off. Ellie was quick to unzip the bag and grab the first aid kit.

Maeve took it, opened it, and searched its contents. Gauze. Sutures. A suture needle. A half a roll of trauma dressings. Two large bandages. That was good. She nodded, content with the supplies, though the one needle would be troublesome. She thought that she could sterilize with it some heat and alcohol.

"Yes, this is good," she closed the kit. "We should get back now and get the guys sewed up."

Once the kit was safely returned to Ellie's backpack, they began toward the way of the yogurt shop they sheltered in. "Did you get any blankets, or something to cover them?"

"I found a couple of shirts that might fit them," Maeve hummed in dismay. "Blankets are a no-go, then again, I wasn't able to look through the stores because of those assholes."

"We can look on our way back. It'd be bad if either of them froze to death before we could sew them up."

Maeve nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."